


Kaleidoscope

by Aloemilk



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Different Moods, Different Writing Styles, Drabble Collection, F/M, Fluff, Gen, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-01
Updated: 2017-06-30
Packaged: 2018-01-21 13:14:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 4,928
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1551740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aloemilk/pseuds/Aloemilk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of drabbles surrounding Ron and Hermione's relationship. Different writing styles, different moods.<br/>Drabble #3: "Marks". Hermione wonders why Ron seems to always kiss her scars-- but not the scars you might think.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Second Thoughts

**Author's Note:**

> In my head, this happens right after the epilogue. Ron and Hermione said goodbye to Rose in Platform 9 3/4, let Hugo spend the rest of the day with the Potters, and decided to make good use of their time alone, lol.
> 
> I think I originally wrote this story for Mugglemama, and I'm pretty sure Pili204 or Honourweasley12 must have helped me with the beta work :)

“So, how do we do this?”

“Use your imagination, Ron.”

“You know I have plenty of imagination, Hermione, but honestly, I don't see how I will...”

“Please, you've liked fitting things in tight places since the summer after the war; don't tell me it doesn't appeal to you now.”

“Oh, well, alright. I guess we can try this.”

“Don't act like it's such a sacrifice. I'm even wearing my old uniform for you.”

“Yeah... Mmm... Okay, then. Let's do it. Are you sure you're comfortable there? That door must be hurting your back.”

“It is supposed to be uncomfortable. It's part of the charm. So, what do you say I put my legs... let's see... here?”

“Sexy, love. With your legs open like that, I have perfect access. I'll just... yes... ugh! Mmm...”

“Careful!”

“What do you want me to do?! I'm too bloody tall!”

“Well, it's about time you knew how to control your long limbs!”

“I thought me controlling other long things was your priority right now.”

“I can't believe you still think that wiggling your eyebrows like that has an effect on my libido. Now put your arm here.”

“Bloody hell, muggles are crazy to do this! Ugh, I need help undressing you.”

“Forget about undressing me, just take off the essentials.”

“But I want to at least see your tits!”

“Alright, then...”

“Yeah, like that... Mmm...”

“Better now?”

“Oh yeah, you have brilliant tits.”

“Can you reach my knickers?”

“Yeah, I can... I just... Merlin, you're so gagging for it!”

“Oh, just... ahhh... take them off.”

“Ah... yeah, get needy like that. Take my trousers down.”

“What if I... put this leg over your shoulder?”

“Okay, yeah, that's good. Here we go... oh...”

“Ahhh...”

“Fuck.”

“Yes, good...”

“I love being inside you.”

“Faster...”

“I'm trying! This bloody car, it's just not big enough! I'm going to enlarge it.”

“No! It won't be like in my fantasy. Just... just move as you... ahh... can... yes...”

“Oh, love...”

“Ron...”

“Your tits moving like this... fucking brilliant!”

“Ah... I need... another position... the door, it hurts.”

“Agh... just when I was finding my rhythm!”

“Ron!”

“Okay... ahh...”

“Ohh...”

“What about I sit here and you ride me?”

“You can be so lazy sometimes, Ron.”

“Lazy?! I tried having a rhythm in this damned car, and you told me to stop!”

“Oh, just... just sit there. Right, like this... ahhhh...”

“Ohh... brillant.”

“Yes, touch me like that.”

“I love you wearing this fucking uniform.”

“I know... I remember trying several of your fantasies... in which, ohhh... this uniform was... relevant...ahhh...”

“Come on, yeah... oh, Hermione, I'm gonna...Unghhhhhh... Ahhh!”

“Rub me so I can come too, before you go... ohhhh... yeah... mmm.... like that, yes! Ohhhh!!!”

“Yes, come for me.”

“Ron!!”

“Fuck, yeah!”

“Mmm...”

"Merlin... I'm going to be sore tomorrow. No more car fantasies, please, love?"

"Well, I wanted to suck you off while you're driving, but if you don't want to try that..."

"On second thoughts..."


	2. Cantarim Jingle Bells

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A collections of drabbles surrounding Ron and Hermione's relationship. Different writing styles, different moods.  
> Drabble #2: "Cantarim Jingle Bells". Ron is preparing a surprise for Hermione, but he's having troubles with the spell he's trying to use.

“Bloody elf!” Ron exclaimed, wondering for about the 100th time why he'd decided to surprise Hermione this way. “Just a stupid, crappy piece of wood! Cantarim Jingle Bells!”

Once again, all the sound that came from the ornament was a strangled, sad noise. “Argh, bloody hell!”

He looked at the clock standing above the mantelpiece, trying to judge how much time he had left.   
But that proved to be a bad idea. “Oh, shite!”

He ran to the bathroom unclothed and jumped into the shower. Swearing profusely, he tried to be as fast as he could. Hermione would be home in 15 minutes, and the surprise had yet to be finished.

Ron felt like he'd been in a hurry the whole day. As soon as Hermione had left for her mandatory morning meeting, he'd jumped out of bed and had gone out to buy the special present he wanted to give her. 

Choosing the perfect ring had taken longer than he'd expected. 

That had set him back on his schedule, so he barely had time to cook her favourite meal and try to charm the Christmas tree's ornaments. Considering how things had gone, there was no bloody way he could make them sing Jingle Bells at his command when Hermione arrived.

As soon as he finished getting dressed, he went downstairs with his wand at the ready. Spells started flowing from his mouth, and he watched as several things came floating from the drawers and shelves and landed in the right place to set table. 

In the exact moment in which he set a couple of candles on the table, he heard the loud crack! that signalled Hermione's arrival. Immediately he turned to see her, expectant.

“Happy Christmas, Hermione.”

She looked lovingly at him and then hugged him tight. “So you found a way of giving us a private Christmas meal, after all.”

Ron had known Hermione wanted them to celebrate their first Christmas in their new house on their own. She had been disappointed when Molly had insisted they spent it with the whole family like they always had.

Still, surprising her with a special lunch meal fit perfectly with his plans.

She looked at him, thankfulness in her eyes. “Thank you, Ron. I love you.” 

He kissed her, forgetting all about his earlier troubles. This was worth it. “I love you, too.”

Smiling, she said, “What about some music?”

“Oh, right.” He took out his wand and pointing it to the tree, he tried the spell again. “Cantarim Jingle Bells!”

Nothing happened.

“Cantarim Jingle Bells!” he tried again.

“Ron,” Hermione said, taking out her own wand. “You're saying it wrong. It's not CANtarim Jingle Bells, it's CanTArim Jingle Bells.”

Ron rolled his eyes, but could only smile when her laugh reached him. He only hoped she'd enjoy his present just as much.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally written at Checkmated for a Christmas exchange.  
> The giftee was honouraryweasley12, who now is my husband <3


	3. Marks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione wonders why Ron seems to always kiss her scars-- but not the scars you might think.

The room feels slightly cold, the air still and filled with the smell that accompanies the rising sun in summer. Ron left the window slightly open during the night, because he knows you love the smell of the morning and how the slight breeze moves the soft curtains, setting the slow lighting bedroom to glow. 

You love to wake up this early on Sundays. It doesn't matter if he's still sleeping or if you'll fall asleep again a little later. Being there in bed with him, surrounded by your silent home is as close to bliss as you ever imagined. You won't have to get up just yet; your children will sleep in and you'll probably have a lazy love making session with Ron a little bit later.

Sunday mornings are the best time of your week. It’s especially wonderful on those days, when you wake up to the feel of his lips trailing over your skin. The practice and years of learning your body tell him exactly where and how to touch you, replacing the joy of mutual discovery and awkwardness with honed movements and caresses. 

Not for the first time, you notice how he never fails to kiss the stretch marks left on your skin by your pregnancies. He moves on to the underside of your breasts, close to your hips and navel. They're not many, but they're there, and he always kisses them tenderly.

With a sigh, caused by the rising responses to his touch, you're thankful that he still manages to make you feel loved. Your body isn't the same as it was when you first made love to him, but you feel more confident about his admiration for it now than you did back then. Your self confidence has had its high and lows for as long as you two have been together. Yet, there's something about the way he kisses you now that leaves no space for doubts, no matter how ironic that is.

Maybe that's why you've never really wondered why he paid special attention to the little scars. You remember once hearing how your mother complained she wished she could erase her own stretch marks, to which your father had replied he didn't care for them. But Ron... it was different. He acted like he actually loved them.

As he came to you and kissed your earlobe, the line of your jaw and your lips, you forgot about it and gave into the sensations. Lazy love making was one of your favourites, too. But afterwards, his head on your shoulder and his hand on your belly, the thought came back to you. And you wondered.

You feel his smile against you as he whispers, “I thought you knew.”

But you don't, and now you're curious. 

He rests his weight on one elbow as his free hand creates a path between the marks again, his eyes following his fingers. “You gave me my daughter and son, Hermione.”

Your eyes fill with tears like you were 18 again, because when you see the love and gratefulness on his face you don't need anything else to understand what he meant.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes it seems that all I write is small, sweet little drabbles...


	4. Muggle Technology

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been posting these drabbles on my Tumblr, and decided to post them in this collection as well.  
> Please note: I haven't had these drabbles read by a beta, so they may contain grammar mistakes. Doesn't matter how much I practice English, there's certain habits that percolate from my native tongue, no matter what.

Ron entered the dimly lit room feeling unsure, trying to not make any sounds. He was tightly holding Hermione's hand, thinking that he must love her very much to be in this room where everything seemed so strange and big and imposing. He avoided Muggle medicine completely if he could help it.

Her parents entered the small office behind them, murmuring excitedly about seeing their grandchild for the first time. That morning, they had tried to explain what they were going to do at this appointment, but Ron wasn't sure he understood what they were trying to describe. If you asked him, what they were talking about seemed more like magic than what he did when he used his wand.

Hermione lay down on a flat bed, exposing her belly. Their unborn child moved back and forth in response, while a technician applied a jelly-like substance on her tummy.

"It doesn't like it when I lie back like this," Hermione laughed.

Ron laughed as well, marveled as always that their baby was so active all the time, the undulation of its movement impossibly clear: an elbow here, a tiny foot there.

But then… oh, then time stopped. A fast heartbeat echoed in the room, and when the screen hanging from the wall lit up, he could see the black-and-white ghost of his tiny child.

He wasn't breathing. He wasn't blinking. The image changed a bit, and he thought that he could see some shapes now.

"That's the head," the technician was saying, indicating with a pointer on the screen. "Can you see it? You can see the hair floating!"

It was clear all of a sudden. He could see their baby, hear its heartbeat, a sign of its health and its life. He was overcome with images of their future and oh, so much love for that tiny human Hermione and him had created.

He tore his eyes from the screen and turned to his wife, his love and best friend, who was smiling like he had never seen. He was so happy he thought he might burst. For the first time, he truly, fully admired Muggle technology, and vaguely wondered if they had a machine that would re-start his heart.


	5. Harvest

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if there's too many mistakes. I'm posting these drabbles to Tumblr and not having them betaed.

"Don't you feel guilty for leaving Harry behind?"

Ron looked back to the general direction of The Burrow, now completely out of view, blocked by the lush greenery of the orchard. He then looked at Hermione, walking in a slow pace by his side, her head turned to look at him. "Nah," he replied, "it won't kill him to puff the pillows alone, or whatever else my mum put him to do this time."

She chuckled. "I suppose. But I do feel a bit bad to be out here, doing nothing, when your mum is desperately trying to get everything just perfect for the wedding."

"Relax, Hermione. We _are_ doing something, remember?" Without breaking his step, Ron reached up and pulled one dark, juicy-looking plum out of a branch. "We're harvesting some fruit for dessert, yes? These are delicious this time of the year."

Ron bit into the fruit, savoring the sweetness with pleasure. Belatedly, he remembered to offer some to Hermione. It was one of the many little details _The Book_ suggested. He stopped and reached up again, chose another nice-looking plum, and offered it to her. "Want some?" he asked, half expecting her to reject it as they were so close to dinner time.

"Sure, thanks," she said next to him, reaching for the purple fruit in his hand. He didn't let go of the plum right away, though, and her fingers stayed touching his for a tiny second. She looked up at him, trying to guess what he was up to, but he let her take the fruit just as she opened her mouth to ask what was going on.

"You're welcome," he responded, locking his eyes with hers.

 _Ding!_ a bell rang in his head, signaling as it had many times of late that this could be it, a moment where with some work, he could get things right to finally kiss Hermione.

Looking right back at him, she dropped the hand that was holding the plum, and lifted the other one to his mouth.

_DING DING DING DING DING!_

There was no more air around him; he felt like all oxygen had disappeared forever. His ears felt so hot that he vaguely wondered if he had burnt them somehow. The rest of him was frozen to the spot, desperately trying to stop himself from moving one millimeter and spoiling whatever she was doing to him.

Her fingers wrapped around his face, and her thumb rested on the corner of his mouth. It softly moved in an arch away from his lips, and far too soon for his liking, her hand lifted from his skin.

"You had some plum juice there," she finally said, a smirk slowly appearing on her face.

Ron's body relaxed all of a sudden, to the point he could have dropped to the floor as all tension left him and was replaced by disappointment. "That's Weasley charm for you," he commented self-deprecatingly.

She laughed and bit her plum, and blushing slightly reached for his hand. She pulled at him to go back in the direction of the house. "Come, we'll tell them they weren't ripe enough yet," she said.

"Yeah, not quite ripe yet," he agreed, trying to content himself with just holding her hand.


	6. To Have Him

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Weddings  
> Title: To Have Him  
> Rating: M/Explicit
> 
> Originally written for Callieskye and Wildegreenlight's Romione Quickiefest on Tumblr. And won for its category ^^

 

The romantic glow from hundreds of candles around them was a stark contrast to Ron's grimace. Hermione stole what must have been the hundredth glance at him, sitting next to her among the wedding guests.

His fingers were tapping anxiously on his thighs. His eyes were focused on the ceiling, like he couldn't stand to look at the couple standing at the front, like he was trying to ignore the vows the bride and groom were sharing.

Hermione's eyes fell down to her own hands, her eyebrows furrowed with worry as she tried to decipher what might be wrong with her boyf-- her  _fiancé_. She stared at the shiny new ring on her finger, not two months old, as a scattering of stray thoughts spread through her consciousness.

_Maybe seeing what getting married looks like is making him panic._

_Maybe he's thinking what so many are thinking, that we're still too young for this._

_Maybe he's decided he wants to call off the engagement._

As the ceremony ended and they made their way to the reception hall, his silence and constant fidgeting only convinced her further of his intentions. She began to prepare for what he'd say, wondering if she could convince him to stay together even if they decided to cancel their wedding plans. She was in the middle of forming a detailed argument list when he took her hand and began pulling her through the throngs of people towards a big set of French doors. They crossed it and walked on, passing hedges and a big fountain, not stopping until they found a secluded place behind a decorative wall. She stood against it; he stood close, facing her.

She gathered her courage, took a controlled breath, and stilled herself to what he had to say.

He looked just as serious.

"You know that I love you, right?" He asked.

She nodded her head in answer.

"Good," he said, and proceeded to bend down, attack her neck from all sides, and pull the fabric of her dress up until he could grab a handful of flesh. He pulled her against him.

"R--Ron?" She stuttered in surprise. Then, as he nibbled on a specially sensitive spot, she added in a much breathier way, "Ron."

She could feel his hardness pushing through his trousers. She didn't know how this connected to his previous restlessness… and she didn't care. She needed to feel him close; she needed to feel him wanting her, in whichever way he did.

That's why she didn't protest when he lifted one of her legs around his waist, grinding against her as he kissed her deeply. That's why she began undoing his belt, button and zipper, and reached inside with her hand to rub against him over his pants.

"Hell, Hermione, I need you," he hissed, his fingers traveling under her knickers and curling around her pubic bone, exploring her folds with learned precision.

"Yes," she said, in both agreement and permission, and pulled his underwear down and out of the way, freeing him.

"Fuck," he exhaled.

He pulled her up, both her legs around his waist, pinning her against the wall and holding her with his hands around her arse. She reached between them, deftly moving her knickers out of the way and guiding him to her. Her flesh accommodated him, welcoming him, and he began to move to tease her, to please her. She gasped, he sighed.

"Touch yourself," he begged in a harsh breath, "I need you to come with me."

In absolute abandonment, she did. She bit her lips to contain her moans, and it wasn't too long until she was falling off an edge, his grunts muffled against her hair.

One, two, ten seconds later, he let her legs fall down back to the ground; her knees buckled, but he held her up by grabbing her waist and pulling her to him once more. She looked up to him in thanks, in longing, knowing that she didn't care how he wanted to be with her, as long as she still had him. The look of adoration in his eyes was the first sign that he felt the same and that she had been utterly wrong.

"I can't fucking wait to marry you," he whispered.

 


	7. Blossoming

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: As requested by anonymous, based on a prompt list I posted on Tumblr. This collection of drabbles is loosely called "Kisses" bc of the poem I used as a prompt list...

Spring came swiftly, time flying by on the rising winds of the changing season. They had kept busy to survive the distance, their minds immersed in work, essays, and training. Free weekends were treasured in their scarcity, time rushed and short and shared beyond the boundaries of each other. Their family and friends wanted to be with them, too, after all.

Two hours for themselves on a Saturday evening was escape; it was refuge. They were somewhere in The Burrow's grounds, far enough away from the house to relish in their privacy. He lay on new grass, his hands behind his head for support, legs crossed at the ankles. Hermione's head rested on his torso, one of her arms trapped between their bodies and the other wrapped around his torso. He let out a contented sigh, the rise and fall of his chest taking her with it. She joined him, adding a good squeeze of his body for emphasis.

"Everything has blossomed," she said, looking at each of the hundreds of flowers covering the grass beneath them, as if she had all the time in the world to attend to their beauty, one at a time. She then closed her eyes to try to catch their scent, sweet and subtle in the twilight air.

"Yeah," he agreed after a moment, his hand coming to wrap the back of her head, prompting her to look up to him. "Everything."

His smile slowly stretched on his face, knowingly, as he pulled on her head, inviting her to reach for him. She did, a smile of her own appearing on her face. She kissed him softly among the spring flowers, their perfume now forever etched within her.


	8. Bend The Rules

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Drabble #2 in the Kisses Drabble series, part of the OTP Day celebration. Prompt requested by diva-gonzo at Tumblr: Silent, Noble Kiss, based on a rompt list.

She eventually surrendered to sleep, limp against him and surrounded by his arms. It took her a long time to let go and keep her eyes closed, but he understood. Who can sleep after being tortured like that? Hell, he couldn't sleep and it hadn't been him who had to fight to stay alive as searing pain gripped every one of his cells. No, he had been helpless and terrified, but he had been spared the pain. Maybe it was fair, then, that he was the one trying to close his eyes, attempting to convince himself it was okay, she would be fine, and she wouldn't dissolve and disappear from his side as he dreamt of better times.

Oh, but how he wished it had been him, that he could have taken the pain from her. They weren't at risk anymore, and yet he still wanted to beg to be the one cursed to oblivion. _Me, take me, spare her_ , kept invading his mind as if he could somehow change the past. While she was awake, he had managed to put all those thoughts away from his mind, focused as he was in trying to assure her she was safe now, that she was brave and strong and that everything would be fine, she would survive this too. She had hesitantly believed him; now he had only to convince himself.

He squirmed a bit on the many pillows behind his back, uncomfortable, trying to ease the tension left behind by their escape from Malfoy Manor but determined to stay there. He couldn't care less about the knots clenching his neck and shoulders, not when her torso rested against his, her head right on the centre of his chest, his arms around her. He kept on cradling her, allowing himself the slightest tension in his arms to feel her just a tiny bit closer. He tried to use the feeling of her as an anchor, as definitive proof she was all right, and she was with him. Because, as selfish as it made him, he had no idea what he would do if anything happened to her. Where would their future be, if she was not there? How could he tell himself that it was okay, that it was noble to wait, if he had no certainty she'd be there to choose to be with him? Where would all the kisses he had imagined himself giving her go, if she was not there to receive them anymore?

A shaky sigh left him, fleeting memories of those times he had clung to as the fight had worsened; sudden, missed opportunities for kisses that would have told her of his feelings, kisses that he held back because he had to, because telling her he loved her in the middle of war didn't seem like a promise of anything good. It was a constant battle inside of him, the push and pull of wanting to kiss her, to love her, to be with her, when he was afraid for her safety, when he wasn't sure she reciprocated. But he kept on holding on to the dream, even when it could so quickly become a nightmare if anything happened to her. So yeah, he would still hold back the next morning… but tonight…

Tonight, with her safe in his arms for a few hours, he would allow himself to bend the rules. In the silence filling the room, he lowered his head, taking a deep breath filled with the smell of her hair. How could he convince himself it would be all right for them, that there was a future for them? Because, nobility aside, he was weak, and he needed something tonight.

He did all he could think of, only for the sake of what he liked to think was their promised future. He let his head fall further, his lips softly pressing against her hair, as chaste a kiss as he could make it. Because he had to believe they'd have that future. Nothing else would suffice.


	9. Charm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Drabble #3 in the Kisses Drabble series, part of the OTP Day celebration. Prompt requested by otterandterrier on Tumblr: There are prohibited kisses, true ones, based on a prompt list. Written for Valentine's Day or, as a few of us call it, OTP Day.

"I can't believe I'm doing this," Hermione said, nervousness and excitement showing up as a fast heartbeat and a knot on her stomach. She wrung her hands together as he discarded his traveling cloak in a swift motion, careless as it fell to the ground into a heap.

"To be honest," Ron laughed as he grabbed her by the waist and pulled her to him, "neither can I."

She put her hands on the top of his arms, right on the curve of his shoulders, squeezing them to release more of the jittery energy quivering through her fingers. She rested the weight of her body against him, the contact comforting enough to entice a soft smile on her lips. She stretched up to reach for a quick kiss, the contact helping dissipate most of her reservations. Most.

"I should not be doing this," she insisted, more out of a sense of righteousness now than true objection, to then kiss him again. "There are rules against it."

"You know what they say about rules," he argued, proceeding to kiss her jaw and the line of her neck. "Head Girls can break them."

"That is not… Head Girls… Ron!" she complained, her eyes closing as the sensations awakened by his lips became too distracting to keep her argument straight. "McGonagall would expel me if she found out!"

He pulled back to sternly look at her face, his eyebrows creased and his lips set in a smirk. "She would not. She loves you," he stated as if he were explaining to a five year old. "Hell, why do you think she told you which spells she used to close off the Room of Requirement? No way that was just a slip. She planned it so that you could research them and break them. She knows only you would be able to do that. She knows you wouldn't tell anyone. She _knows_ that you'd keep me in check and not let me sneak in the castle enough to actually affect your performance. Why do you think she didn't seal the painting's passage? Besides, she knows how busy I am, too."

"Please. You're making it sound like she wants us to sneak in these moments together. I assure you she does not!"

"She so does," he laughed again, and she could see the glint in his eyes telling her he was not as much convinced of this as enjoying that he could wind her up.

"Absolutely not. This is _prohibited_ , Ron!"

"And yet, here we are."

"I still don't know how you convinced me to do this."

"Oh, but you forget," he continued, resuming his light kisses. "You were the one doing all the planning. You were the one to suggest it, even."

She chuckled then, exasperation and memories and love diffusing her resistance. "Cursed be your charm," she joked, her fingers relaxing now and traveling up his neck to thread through his hair.

"You love it," he whispered against her temple, his arms squeezing her closer to him. He bent to kiss the corner of her lips, to then look to her again. "You love me. You would not have suggested this if you didn't."

"I do love you," she admitted, her eyes locked on his. "And that's the truth of it."


	10. An Award

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Based on the prompt "Mysterious Kisses" requested by trademarkblue on Tumblr, and inspired by listening to the audiobooks and getting the feels when Dumbledore told Ron he would be getting an award :heart:
> 
> AN2: the 4th "drabble" for the Kisses collection was a 1700+ word fic, so I am posting it as a separate story here on FFN.

 

_Dear Mum,_

_Just a quick letter to say how wicked it was to see Dad's award for Special Services to the school. Rose just showed it to me, but didn't want to tell me what he did to get it– she said I should ask you, because she thinks you would tell the story much better than she would. So please tell me! I am dying to know!_

_Love,_

_Hugo_

_Ps: Tell Dad he's brilliant!_

Hermione folded the short letter Hugo had just sent home, a soft smile tugging at the corner of her lips. She gave food to the school owl that had delivered it and instructed for it to wait.

She was about to sit down to write her son a response letter when she changed her mind. Following an impulse prompted by the tingling warmth in her heart, she left parchment and quill on the table and went to the kitchen, where Ron was in the middle of cooking early dinner for the two of them.

Without saying a word, she went to him, balanced herself on the balls of her feet, and curled her fingers around his chin. She then turned his face to hers, giving him a soft peck on the lips. She saw the surprise and pleasure on his eyes, and gave him a smile as she caressed his face once. She then left the kitchen, still in silence.

She was sitting at the table to write back to Hugo when, from the corner of her eye, she saw Ron leaning against the kitchen's doorway.

"Not that I'm complaining," he began, a wooden cooking spoon in one hand and his wand in the other, "but what was that for?"

"Your children are proud of you," she said simply. "And so am I."


End file.
